The Locked Room
by CowardlyLion29
Summary: Hermione is finally starting her new job in the Department of Mysteries. The Locked Room, which is supposed to contain love, the most powerful magic, taunts her as she deals with figuring out who she really cares for. Is it Ron? or someone new from work?
1. Firsts

The Locked Room

Chapter 1: Firsts

The flat was frantic on that Monday morning with flashes of bushy brown hair darting about from room to room. The bewilderment of Harry and Ron is not easily described. Ron stumbled out from his room, disheveled and squinting at 7:30 in the morning and groaned.

"Harry, what in Merlin's name is going on?" he inquired. Harry, who was indulging in his fourth cup of coffee since Hermione woke him inadvertently at 6:30, merely shrugged at the red-haired mess that stood before him in his underclothes. A few seconds later, a blur dashed into the kitchen and just as quickly dashed out again; causing Ron to jump at her sudden appearance and spill the coffee he was busy pouring into an obscenely large mug.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON, HERMIONE?" he bellowed. The blur stopped, or at least slowed down on one of her routes through the small kitchen long enough to say "WORK!" and then raced out again, arms full of papers and a bag bursting with more slung over her shoulder. The door slammed, and they heard a loud _POP_ as she disapparated.

Ron sat down and gulped down his coffee. After about 15 or 20 minutes of this, Harry sat up straight and said, "Ohh, right."

"What?" Ron asked, still needing more coffee in order to understand.

"She's starting that job at the Ministry today."

"Ohh, right," Ron said.

"Department of Mysteries, wasn't it?"

Ron merely shrugged and stalked off back to his room. Harry sat in a practically catatonic state for at least another half an hour as Hermione arrived a few miles away at the Ministry, flushed and breathless with excitement.

Hermione stalked off down the hallowed halls of the Ministry, gazing at the Atrium with familiarity. She marched over to the lift and waited for the distant voice to state, "Department of Mysteries."

A thrill passed through her as she straightened her posture in anticipation of what was to come. She hurried down the corridor and opened the door to the circular blue room. She took out her wand – a difficult task what with her arms full of papers – and muttered "_Point Me"_ once the doors had stopped spinning. She chose the northernmost door, and opened it, sensing how her marks from fifth year had been completely erased. A hallway appeared before her, lined with door after door, all locked, all forbidding. Her step slowed along the corridor as the complete anonymity of the office doors shut her out, and a panic began rising within her.

Finally, the door at the end of the hall was in front of her; the door she was meant to knock on. Hesitating, she knocked gently, almost afraid to break the pristine silence that had enveloped her. In a few minutes, the door opened quietly, and a deep voice beckoned her in. A man with a graying beard and grave demeanor stood up to shake her hand.

"Miss Granger?" he asked, and she nodded, "Welcome to your first day of training to become an Unspeakable."

Sitting at a round table in the center of an impossibly large room, Hermione was eagerly poised with quill and parchment, prepared to take down any notes at all. She almost jumped when the man with the graying beard began greeting the people present.

"You are all here today to become Unspeakables. For this reason, we must not become too familiar with each other apart from what is appropriate for our profession. It is also for this reason that any personal effects are not permitted in the offices or hallways. This is the most secret floor in the wizarding world, and we'd like to keep it that way. Unfortunately, as many of you may know, there was a disturbance of this secrecy a few years back when the incident with Lord Voldemort occurred."

Hermione glanced up at this reference to the battle she and the other DA members had participated in, indeed, they had initiated it, practically. No one looked at her as she cautiously scanned the room.

"Because of that unfortunate incident, our security policies have been tightened to an even larger degree. You will all be restricted to your departments and not allowed to go any where else on this floor other than the offices, this meeting room, your particular field, and, of course, the loo." Several people chuckled at this, but Hermione was frozen in a look of slight disbelief. She wasn't allowed to go anywhere else other than her own area? That wasn't what she had expected – she wanted to learn everything she could about the entire department! Her posture slouched a little in disappointment.

"The departments will be assigned in a few minutes." The director pointed to a stack of envelopes on the table in front of him. "You will each come up and get your envelope, go to the office indicated on the front of the envelope, and open it in private. All instructions are inside these envelopes including which doors you enter and what passwords you need. Once you have memorized the contents of the envelopes, you will bring them to me, and I will incinerate them in your presence. Understood?" The group nodded simultaneously, afraid to speak and intimidated by the seriousness of his demeanor.

One by one, they were called up and left the room, heads drooping, concentrating on the print inscribed on their envelopes. When it was Hermione's turn, she jumped out of her chair, hastily gathering her quill and parchment and took the envelope from the director. "_Office 27_" was scrawled on the front, and Hermione tried to remember the way back to the offices and refrain from following her impulse to rip open the parcel right there in the hall.

As she entered her office and removed the mysterious contents from their wrappings, she hastily scanned what it said.

_The Time Room_

"_Tempus Fugit"_

_Door to the left of office doors_

Feeling moderately distressed at the minimalist instructions, Hermione leaned back in her chair and memorized the three diminutive lines.

It was nearing the five o'clock hour, and Hermione and the rest of the Time Room Unspeakables were crowded around the large bell jar near the end of the room. Their eyes were glazed over from staring so long at the glittering jar, and the egg hatching slowly into the hummingbird and back into the egg as it made its way up and down the jar.

"We should probably get to work," one of the newest Unspeakables said, still staring.

"I don't fancy trying to repair any more Time-Turners," said another. Hermione looked sheepishly in the other direction, remembering that it was partially her fault that the Time-Turners were in a collective state of disrepair.

"What do you suppose the others are doing? What's in the other rooms?" a woman with curly, short red hair asked. The others merely shrugged, except for a pretty Asian girl with her long black hair swept back and narrow glasses perched on her nose who said, "Didn't you read about the battle here? It was in _The Daily Prophet_ a couple years ago."

"D'you suppose that's why all those Time-Turners are broken?" a tall man with disheveled brown hair asked.

"I'm not sure what happened exactly," the Asian girl said, looking conspiratorially at the others, "but Voldemort was definitely involved. I know that there is a Hall of Prophecy somewhere in here. I've also heard something about a locked room that no one can get into because it holds the most powerful magic of all."

"And what's that supposed to be?" one of the others asked, gazing at this girl in blatant admiration.

"Love," Hermione said, without thinking. Several pairs of questioning eyes turned on her, including a pair of rather irritated black ones, doubting her behind thin wire glasses.

"How did you know that?" the Asian girl asked Hermione. Hermione began to panic. She wasn't supposed to know that, but Harry had told her after Dumbledore told him. Since Hermione had planned on being an Unspeakable for a while now, Harry thought it was fitting that she should know something about it.

"I – I just heard it somewhere," Hermione fibbed. A finely-shaped eyebrow rose in disbelief at Hermione's stuttering.

"I heard that too," the brown-haired giant said, smiling in Hermione's direction. "Hi, I'm Charlie, Charlie Perkins" he said, extending a hand in Hermione's direction.

"Hermione Granger," she murmured, "You've heard that, too?" she asked.

"Yeah, I heard that they keep it locked so no one will find out that something so mundane is the most powerful form of magic in the world."

"If that's true, which seems highly unlikely, I don't see why they would keep it locked all the time. If love is so powerful, wouldn't we want to be working with the magic more and trying to use it to our advantage?" the Asian princess queried.

"What's your name?" Charlie asked her.

"Marie," she said shortly. Charlie smirked in her direction. After a short pause, Hermione spoke.

"I think that if love is the most powerful magic in the world, then it could also be considered the most dangerous, and that's probably why they keep it locked up," Hermione murmured into her lap. Marie's upper lip showed her disdain for Hermione's opinion, and when Hermione looked up, Charlie was grinning at her. Hermione's stomach swooped a little and she found herself grinning back.

"I'm home!" she bellowed, barging into the living room with her arms full of papers. When no one answered, she yelled, "BOYS! Where are you?" She dropped everything on the couch and made her way into her bedroom to throw down her coat. Once she meandered into the kitchen, she found a hastily scribbled note on the table.

_Hermione – Went to the Burrow. Meet us there later. Harry & Ron_

Exasperated at the note, and the need to do any more traveling, Hermione sank into one of the kitchen chairs. Resting her head in her hand, she contemplated just crawling into bed and making her excuses to the Weasleys later when a tapping on the kitchen window above the sink shook her out of her reverie. A small white owl, looking like a baby Hedwig hopped onto the counter once Hermione had opened the window. Unrolling the tiny note, Hermione read its contents with a widening grin.

_Would like to discuss today's events more with you over a drink (or several?). I'll be at the Leaky Cauldron around 10, and you should be too, or else it will look like I'm drinking myself into a desolate coma. Please come. Charles Perkins, Esq. _

Perhaps Hermione _would_ dash over to the Weasleys for a while… at least until 10.


	2. Surprises

The Locked Room

Chapter 2: Surprises

The evening grass was damp under her feet as Hermione approached the Burrow. The night was warm, and Hermione almost began to regret wearing the concealing, thick sweater when she knocked on the Weasley's door.

"Hermione, you don't need to knock!" a voice yelled from inside – Ron's. Walking in, she replied:

"I can't help it if my parents raised me to be polite… and I listened," she added as Mrs. Weasley bustled in, holding plates and bowls.

"Thank you, Hermione. I know the boys are lacking when it comes to manners. Give us a hand setting the table, will you?" she asked. Ginny was already sitting at the table, looking up now and then, presumably to see what Harry was doing.

"Ginny, I'd give up if I were you," Hermione told her. Ginny sighed and turned to look at her friend.

"You know, when he broke up with me last year, I didn't think he'd take it quite so seriously," she whispered as Harry and Ron raced out to the yard with their broomsticks like a couple of second years. "Besides, why should I give up when you're still holding a torch for Ron?"

"What? Ron? I am not still holding a torch for him… whatever was about to happen with us is over. I mean, since we all live together, I hope it's over. Besides, I have a date tonight."

"Well I hope Ron knows it's over… Wait a second; did you just say you have a date tonight?"

"Yes, I did. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, apparently. What's his name?"

"Charlie."

"My brother Charlie! Oh that's rich…"

"Not your brother! Charlie _Perkins_."

"Well thank Merlin for that. Where'd you meet him?"

"Today at work. There were some other interesting characters there, too. This girl named Marie, for example. She was bloody full of herself... thought she knew everything."

"So, she's a prettier version of you, then?" Ginny snickered at her. Hermione glowered at the redhead.

"It doesn't matter, because I'm going out with Charlie around ten."

"Good luck making up an excuse and pulling it off. Mum might let it slide, but if Ron finds out, you're dead."

"He has no right to get angry if I go out with Charlie."

"What about Charlie?" Ron came staggering into the kitchen, slightly winded and pink.

"Did I just hear you say you were going out with Charlie, Hermione?" Mrs. Weasley asked from the doorway as Ron stood there bewildered. Hermione groaned and Ginny started laughing.

"Charlie _Perkins_," Hermione said for the umpteenth time as one after another, the entire Weasley family and Harry assumed she was talking about Charlie Weasley. Ron had not spoken a word throughout the entire explanation except to run his hands through already messy hair and murmur "Bloody Hell…"

Hermione kept glancing anxiously at her watch. She wanted to pop home and see if she looked alright before meeting him at the Leaky Cauldron. The Weasleys wouldn't shut up about her date.

"Please, I've had dates before!" she shouted at the masses as they cooed over this prospect as though she were 16 and green as grass.

"Yeah, with Viktor Krum," Ginny snorted. Hermione blushed because that actually _was_ the only time she had ever been on anything minutely resembling an actual date.

"I should really get going…" she said, anxious to escape the mortifying situation.

"I don't think I've heard of any Perkins boy around here or at Hogwarts, have you Arthur?" questioned Mrs. Weasley.

"Could be related to Perkins at the office," contributed Arthur quietly.

"Sure, Charlie Perkins was in our year, wasn't he Fred?" George bellowed.

"Oh yeah, he was a Ravenclaw I think. Seemed like a nice chap. Family had lots of money, and we didn't have time for those goody-two-shoes types. Although he didn't seem half bad."

While this conversation was taking place, Hermione crept out into the backyard, avoiding Ron's eyes and disapparated back to their flat. Discarding the thick sweater, Hermione opted for a slinky wrap around her shoulders instead and made sure every hair was in place on her head before appearing at the Leaky Cauldron.

She was a few minutes early, but Charlie was already there, seated at the counter with a Butterbeer in his hand. His messy light brown hair was slightly tidier than it had been that afternoon, and he was wearing a jacket instead of just a T-shirt. His hazel eyes were friendly in the soft light of the bar, and Hermione felt welcomed, almost like he was giving her a hug just with his smile.

"Hermione Granger got my note," he said, the corners of his eyes wrinkling attractively as he grinned some more.

"I did, and I came although I just barely escaped…"

"Escaped from what? Did Marie come to your house and try to strangle you?" Hermione chuckled.

"No, I was at the Weasley's house. Fred and George say they know of you."

"Ah yes, we're acquaintances really, although I've always admired their handiwork from afar. Did they tell you about the time in our first year when they snuck a chizpurfle into one of Snape's cauldrons and it ate anything he tried to pour in there?"

"No, they didn't tell us that one. Oh, I'll have a Butterbeer as well," she said to Tom the barkeeper.

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a drinker, but I figure if we have enough of these we'll get a nice tingly feeling." Hermione beamed at him.

"So what do you think of this 'locked room'?" Hermione asked him.

"I'd wager you know more about it than I do," he said slyly. "Hermione Granger, top of her graduating class a year ago, helped Harry Potter defeat You-Know-Who, destroyed several Horcruxes, not to mention all the fascinating things you did during school, involving the Philosopher's Stone, being petrified by the basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets, and the list goes on, apparently…" he winked at her.

"You've certainly done your homework," she said, looking a little concerned that someone should know so much about her.

"You surprised me today, and I wanted to know more about you. It wasn't difficult to find things out by asking around, not to mention my very important contacts in the Hall of Records."

"Well, all I really know about that room is that it contains love, the most powerful form of magic and therefore the most underrated."

"I guess we'll just have to find out for ourselves," Charlie smirked and raised his glass to her.

"That shouldn't be too difficult for you, with all of your terribly important contacts and such."

"I only exert myself that much for things I care to know about, or people," he added avoiding her eyes. Hermione smiled into her drink.

Hermione came back to the flat around two in the morning with a nice tingly feeling. She twirled around the kitchen table for no particular reason, she thought. She twirled again to get into the living room but ran smack into something rather tall and muscular.

"Oof!" said the masculine voice, as Hermione screamed slightly.

"RON? What are you doing there?"

"What are you doing twirling around at two in the morning?"

"Well, I just got in."

"WHAT?" he bellowed. Hermione frantically waved her arms around.

"You'll wake up Harry, not to mention the rest of the building!"

"I don't care! I won't have you coming in this late, Hermione!"

"And who are you? My father? And why should you care anyway? It's none of your business what I do!"

"Oh, it isn't, eh?" he said sarcastically. "I think it is my business!"

"Why?" she said, defiantly looking up at him at an awkward angle.

"Because I -," he faltered, "Because I think I love you."


	3. Research

The Locked Room

Chapter 3: Research

Love can be considered as a series of chemical reactions. The pupils in your eyes widen 45 when you look at something pleasing, your heart rate increases as a result of endorphins released when you see the person you are amorous of, and the list goes on. Hermione knew all of this. She had simply forgotten it that evening. This is the reason why Ron's confession of love for her seemed a lot more serious than Ginny's implications earlier in the evening. Hermione was standing there frozen in a ponderous attitude. In the midst of trying to puzzle out why Ron telling her that he was in love with her suddenly wasn't something to laugh off, she heard someone yelling in her general direction.

"Well say SOMETHING!" Ron shouted.

"I can't," was all that came out. Hermione remembered that she had been twirling around the kitchen earlier. She never just started twirling around _anywhere_! The concept of Hermione twirling used to be inconceivable. Now it had practically incited this whole fiasco of Ron standing dumbstruck in the kitchen, and Hermione standing there equally agog with disbelief.

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I mean I don't know."

"Don't know what?"

"I just don't know what to say. I have to get out of here." With that, Hermione pushed her way into her bedroom, just as Harry came groggily stumbling out of his. Hastily grabbing whatever clothes she could lay her hands on and tossing them into a bag, she gathered everything into her arms and disapparated to the Burrow.

_**BREAK**_

Tuesday morning. Before she was aware of it, Charlie Perkins had sat down on her desk and was talking to her.

"You look seriously preoccupied," he told her.

"Well that's perfectly true," she answered. "I can't stop thinking about the supposed love locked up in that room." This wasn't the entire truth. It was true that she couldn't stop thinking about love, but it wasn't locked in any room – it was everywhere she went, at work, at the flat, at the Burrow. Ron's declaration hadn't ceased to amaze her whenever she thought about it, which was constantly. She refused to be anything but shocked by it, because love wasn't something she was fully able to contemplate. "Think about it from a Muggle's perspective. Muggle doctors have been trying to pin down the anatomical reasons for love for ages, trying to manipulate it, find out which foods stimulate it, find out which scents attract certain people and so on."

"You're telling me that the only reason I'm attracted to you is because you smell good?"

"Well these doctors have proved that certain so-called pheromones produced by our bodies give us an attractive scent to some people, but – what did you just say?"

"You heard me," he said grinning widely at her. She heard him, and didn't hear the knock on the door.

"Hermione!"

"Hm? What is it, Marie?"

"We are attempting to have a department staff meeting, if you and Mr. Perkins would care to join us," she said, looking severe yet coldly beautiful with her long black hair pulled back as she gazed between the two of them disdainfully.

"Yes, your Majesty," Hermione mumbled. Behind her, Charlie snickered.

Seated in the meeting room, the Time Room department was huddled around the small circular table. Marie was holding court at the opposite end of where Hermione and Charlie sat.

"Who declared her Queen, anyway?" Charlie asked Hermione in a hot whisper. His breath on her neck sent shivers down her spine and choked the laugh that would have come out much too loudly.

"I think she followed Napoleon's example and took the reins herself."

"We are starting a new project tomorrow," Marie droned on. After being lulled into a groggy stupor, Hermione jolted when Charlie placed a hand on her lower back.

"Listen, I know some people in other departments on this floor, and I thought I'd have them round to my place for drinks, are you game? I thought we could ask them if they knew anything about our locked room." His hand was still on her back as she nodded slowly, looking at him intensely. She almost had to slap herself to be able to turn her head back to a disgruntled-looking Marie and her projects, and stop picturing Charlie's head leaning in towards hers.

_**BREAK**_

That evening, Hermione decided something. It was final – she had nothing to wear. And, to make matters worse…

"Hermione, please come back to the flat." It was Ron – outside Ginny's room where she was trying to get dressed. It was impossible to escape him! She could have gone home to her parents she supposed, but it just wasn't comfortable being there with people who still checked to make sure she had flossed her bicuspids.

"Ron, go home."

"I am home!"

"I meant, back to the flat."

"I don't see why you need to run away; all I said was I-" Hermione quickly opened the door.

"I know what you said, and you don't need to repeat it. Please, Ron, just let me have a little space to think about things. I'm late already," she said anxiously. Her stomach was up in knots and it wasn't because of Ron.

The note she received tonight was intriguing.

_Sweet Lady, an Enamored Gentleman seeks your company again this evening at nine o'clock at the following address. Long Live the Queen!_

His address followed, and Hermione worried about how she would arrive there without knowing what the place looked like. She would just visualize Charlie when she was trying to apparate. Hopefully that would work, she thought, adjusting herself and fretting in the mirror about the reference to Marie in the note. _Destination, Determination, Deliberation,_ she thought, picturing Charlie and unwittingly conjuring a picture of herself in his arms. With a pop and a squishing sensation, Hermione found herself in a rather difficult situation. There was a crashing sound of glass on the carpet and she found her arms wrapped around the neck of one stunned Charlie Perkins, managing to hold on to her despite the shock of finding Hermione Granger draped elegantly in his arms.

"Hello, has the honeymoon started already?" he asked her, still holding her aloft. Turning one shade of red after another, Hermione whimpered something incomprehensible.

"Would you mind putting me down?" she asked timidly.

"Well…" he ruminated on the question, "I suppose…"

"I'm afraid I didn't know where your flat was so I just pictured you in my head, and here I am," she explained rather quickly. He watched her admiringly.

"Didn't you get my note?"

"Well yes, but it was all very confusing, and I only just escaped-"

"What, escaped again? You're turning out to be quite the damsel in distress."

"Yes, I know. One needs to do escaping if you're staying at the Weasley's house, or any place a Weasley inhabits."

"Aren't you living with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley?" he asked, repairing the broken wine glass on the carpet.

"Yes, I was, but I needed to get out of the flat – go someplace with a little less testosterone."

"There you go with all of your anatomical jargon again. Well never mind all of that, I have invited a few people of interest to us both. A couple people who apparently work in the brain room, two from the Hall of Prophecy, the guard of the Death Chamber, and a couple from our department, including the Queen herself."

"I thought so!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Yes, and I've also invited a few friends just so it wouldn't seem as though we were having a little Department of Mysteries powwow. Clever, aren't I?"

"Tremendously," Hermione beamed at him. She was eager to talk to each of these people, and Charlie's company this evening was nothing short of exceptionally pleasing, considering what she had left behind at the Burrow. Thinking of all of this, she felt something on her cheek – Charlie's lips.

"Thanks for the compliment, and for being so adorable," he said close to her. An electric shock went through Hermione's entire body, weakening her knees and softening her voice.

"It's nothing," she breathed, barely audible. Charlie gave her one of his jaw-dropping grins and sauntered into the kitchen.

_**BREAK**_

One by one, the guests arrived in the spacious flat Hermione had forgotten to notice earlier. It must have been true what the twins had said about Charlie's family having a lot of money. She knew Ministry pay wouldn't support this place. Marie was there, true to his word, along with people she had never seen at work, although they supposedly worked on the same floor. To her amazement, Fred and George showed up with Angelina and Katie who greeted Charlie like a brother. After Hermione shot Charlie an enquiring look, he explained.

"Well, Katie's my cousin actually, and I asked if she wanted to bring some friends along, knowing she was dating George Weasley. I'm sorry if they were the Weasleys you were trying to escape," he added, but received a warm look of appreciation from Hermione, who immediately gravitated towards her friends.

"Hermione!" the twins shouted and clapped her on the back. "What's this I hear about you moving into our house?" Fred asked.

"Ron and I had a row and I needed somewhere else to stay," she explained. All four of them shook their heads at her. "What?" she asked them.

"When will you two stop rowing and just snog already?" Angelina asked, much to Hermione's astonishment. The others started laughing uproariously.

"The woman has a point, Hermione," Fred grinned. "There have been some heavy looks sent your way from dear old Ronniekins."

"How do I miss all of this and you lot know everything!" was the infuriated response complete with sputtering, and was met with more laughter. "Has it ever occurred to any of you that I might not care about Ronald that way?"

"No," said four voices simultaneously.

"Well then, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to seek out some _intelligent_ company," she declared haughtily. More laughter followed her as she stalked off to join Charlie's group near the fireplace.

"Ah, there you are," was the pleased greeting of the beautiful boy as Hermione nudged her way gently into the milieu. "Hermione Granger, this is…" she didn't hear the names as Charlie was massaging her hand behind the other's backs.

_**BREAK**_

It was sometime around four in the morning when Hermione heard the last "pop" and she and Charlie were alone in his apartment. She was huddled underneath a few blankets near the fire, and soon Charlie had nudged her elbow for her to shift over.

Hermione hadn't been listening to anything the others had been saying. There were too many things going on in her head that demanded attention. The others had said that she and Ron _liked_ each other – that she liked him at that very moment, which was the reason for their row. Hermione wasn't sure why she was so unsettled at the thought that Ron loved her. She didn't like thinking about it, therefore it was easier to just avoid it altogether. Usually when she was confused she would turn to Ron as an escape from thought, which was why not thinking about him just brought him into sharper focus. She needed a hug from Ron and advice from Harry, and the only place to find that was at the flat.

"It has certainly been a very enlightening evening," Charlie declared, nestling in closer to her, making her feel a little too uncomfortable. He was soft, and he smelled wonderful. The firelight was glinting in his eyes beneath a mess of touchable curly hair.

"Was it? I'm afraid I was still preoccupied."

"Well, I'll get you up to speed then. It was enlightening in the sense that none of those people knew anything about the locked room, and we have tapped the extent of Marie's knowledge on the subject that first day. In addition to all of this, I have had an amusing conversation with Fred and George Weasley, along with Angelina and Katie." Hermione's head dipped onto his shoulder and she gripped his upper arm.

"What did they tell you about me?" she asked with resignation.

"They think you have feelings for a certain relative of theirs." Hermione could only sigh. Thinking about Ron she had to smile. There was too much between them for Ron not to be one of the men she was most comfortable with, the others comprising (at the moment) Harry, Charlie, and her father.

"I don't know what to do, Charlie. I think I should go home." Suddenly, she wasn't sure what she wanted to happen between herself and Charlie. Confusion had set in and dampened her desires all around. She got up and moved to where she had laid her bag.

"Don't go yet," he said, still sitting there, "I know that was a sneaky way of trying to find out your feelings for me, but I don't want to scare you away."

"Wait, they were talking to you about Katie's relative?"

"Being me, yeah."

"What did they say exactly?"

"They said they thought you had feelings for a relation of one of the people present. Because I was there, I thought they were teasing me about you. Hermione, I do like you – quite a lot actually, so there's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Listen, Charlie, I do like you, but I've only known you for two days. I just need to figure things out."

"There isn't anything to figure out, Hermione. I like you, and you like me." He was standing close to her, towering over her unintentionally. "In situations like these there is usually only one thing to figure out: who's going to kiss who first."

Hermione looked up at him innocently.

"The first and last person I kissed was Viktor Krum," she whispered.

"Well then it's high time you were kissed again," he said close to her mouth. His lips were so very soft and the pressure so achingly tender that Hermione would probably have collapsed were it not for his hands wrapped around the small of her back. She felt his tongue on her lips and she gratefully let him in. Thinking back on it later, Hermione agreed that Charlie's kiss far surpassed Viktor's, famous Quidditch player or not.


	4. Blood Lust

The Locked Room

Chapter 4: Blood Lust

It wasn't easy for Hermione to determine whose hands were whose as Charlie's intertwined with her own and exploratory gestures commenced all over the two bodies cozily enclosed in Charlie's immense downtown flat. Since she couldn't determine what exactly she was feeling about this other than intensely aroused, she thought it best to put an end to the interview.

"Charlie…" she choked out from underneath his lips, still determinedly caressing her own. "I think we should stop," she managed to say at last. He stepped back and ran his fingers through his mess of curly hair.

"You're probably right, as usual," he said sighing. She watched as he took a few steps away from her, as if resisting temptation better through distance. Hermione wondered, as she traced Charlie's (appealing) outline, why she felt like she had just betrayed hundreds of people in kissing this man.

"I should probably go…" she said to the window, overlooking a deadened street.

"Hermione, I don't want you to go home thinking that I pressured you. I thought that's what you wanted. It's what I wanted, too." She wondered briefly if that was what she _wanted_, or what she _needed_. She had never really let her hormones get the better of her until that night. Viktor was rather a damp rag, and she was hesitant. Charlie wasn't Viktor, however; he was intelligent, charming, and could speak English perfectly. Hermione thought things became clearer at that moment.

"I just don't want to screw this up, Charlie. I think I could really care about you, but I don't want hasty impulses to jeopardize something special." Feeling like a first-rate prude, Hermione turned to pick up her bag, and then kissed Charlie on the cheek. "I guess I'll see you at work tomorrow," and with that, she apparated back to the flat.

_**BREAK**_

It had been a week without kisses for Hermione, and she was starting to feel the need for snogging again. However, this was an impossibility as all males insisted on avoiding her company. She couldn't figure out why exactly, but Charlie's distance might have been explained through her hasty departure the night of his party. They talked occasionally, but no more than work required. Harry had been spending more and more time out of the flat as Ron had taken to locking himself in his room for hours (possibly to avoid encounters with Hermione). The flat was a dismal place to be as none of its occupants were talking to one another. Ron chose to wallow in his misery, Hermione chose to suffer all her confusion by herself, and Harry just didn't want to live in an atmosphere so full of angst.

Hermione was distressed by what she had said to Charlie, especially as it resulted in their estrangement. So it was on that Wednesday afternoon that Hermione decided to take some sort of action.

_**BREAK**_

Ron noticed that the afternoon light had crept into his room, although he had vehemently shut all the blinds a few days ago after locking the windows and slamming his door shut. A single ray penetrated the gloom he had been laying around in for almost a week straight.

He came out three times a day for food and bathroom necessities, but other than that, he would rather sit in his cramped room and sulk. It might have dawned upon him once in that isolated week that his behavior was moderately to completely immature, but he didn't care. In fact, he took a sort of vindictive pleasure in the fact that his childish behavior would probably incite Hermione's wrath even more. If there was one thing that Ron always found enjoyable it was seeing how wonderful Hermione looked when she was angry. He hadn't noticed that he liked seeing her when she was in a tiff with him until fifth year at least, before that, arguing with Hermione was just a way to pass the time. But once he saw that her curly brown hair would crackle with electricity and her brown eyes would practically flame up when she was yelling at him, he began to pick fights with her just to watch this progress from composed Hermione, to on-fire Hermione.

If there was one thing he regretted the most from their Hogwarts days, it was that he had allowed Lavender Brown to sit with him that night after they had won the Quidditch match in their sixth year. What a mess that turned out to be. Sure, it was good to get in some snogging, but Merlin could she whine! Ron always blushed when he thought about the entire situation. Hermione was all he wanted, for as long as he could remember. That whole ordeal with Ginny telling him Hermione had snogged _Vicky_ was what really initiated the Lavender Fiasco. Hermione wasn't like most girls, she had something that wasn't easy to describe.

Ron thought he loved her because she was his complete opposite. She was smart, and quick-thinking, and she had the answer to everything be it academic or otherwise. She didn't take three hours to get ready, she pulled her hair up into one of those messy buns and she was gorgeous. The best thing of all was that she didn't realize how smart she was. She was confident, of course, but she didn't have that innate smugness that some people have when they know they've got all the answers regardless of if they actually do or not.

Ron thought for a while longer about how he came to the decision that he loved her. It might have dawned upon him as early as last week when they were all at the Burrow and all the confusion about Hermione's date snowballed. He never considered that she would meet someone and go on dates. The only real jealousy he had to endure was that over Viktor Krum, although he had never realized it was full-blown jealousy until its object shifted onto this Charlie Perkins fellow. All in all, this job as an Unspeakable was completely wrong for Hermione. It was too dangerous, and you never knew who could be lurking around that Ministry. Take for example that bloke Rookwood who turned out to be a spy for Voldemort… the job wasn't safe! Ron thought that he would talk to Hermione about that when she came home. Of course she would have a fit, but that just made her even more attractive to him. The fact that he could get her that riled up was a source of supreme pride for Ron. She looked impassioned when she was mad at him, and he often had to turn away from her so that she wouldn't see how aroused that made him. No other girl could do that to him, he knew. Shaking his head in the gloom, he gazed at that light that punctured the black solemnity and sank back on to his bed. He had to get out of that room. He needed to talk to her, or at least to Harry.

Ron was in between jobs at the moment. He used to work part-time with Fred and George at the shop, but they got sick of him in a hurry. That was brotherly affection for you. He had asked for a job in the Ministry of Magical Games and Sports, and was just waiting for them to get back to him about it. If there was one thing Ron thought he could do, it was talk about Quidditch all day. Harry was in the midst of his training to be an Auror, although Ron was sure they would have taken him on board just to listen to him talk about the Second War and how he defeated Voldemort. Maybe Ron would go in to the Ministry after cleaning himself up a bit. Thinking about the competence of his two best friends had gotten him down. Ron ran his hands through his disgustingly long hair and thought he'd make a couple stops before going to visit them at work.

_**BREAK**_

Marie Chang had grown up in London, and was often considered as _the_ Supreme Drama Queen and Know-It-All amongst her extensive acquaintance. The Changs were an excessively attractive family. Her cousin Cho was known as one of the prettiest girls at Hogwarts a few years ago, and she herself was deemed the exotic beauty at Beauxbatons, where her parents had sent her after they realized how coarse Hogwarts truly was. Fleur Delacour had been one of her closest friends. She heard she was going to marry a red-headed man from a poor family. Marie could only assume he was very attractive, otherwise it was unlikely Fleur would have gone for him in the first place.

Once she had moved back to England, Marie had gotten herself a spacious apartment in the respectable moneyed part of London, and started work at the Ministry in the most respected department where she could really challenge herself. Although she had a trust fund, Marie still chose to work because she couldn't bear to be idle. Her mind wandered too much for it to be unoccupied with something serious. Her studies had been her life, and she graduated at the top of her class, even when those classes were entirely conducted in French. Because she was so devoted to academia, romance had never played even a minor role in her life until she had returned to England and settled into her work. She felt exceedingly comfortable in her work, and naturally became the leader in their department, despite the other Unspeakables' reluctance to follow her, and instead hang on to that frizzy-haired girl, Hermione Granger.

Marie could not encounter such a person as Hermione Granger and not do some research on her. It turned out that she was similar to Marie herself in that she had also graduated at the top of her class. However, Hermione Granger was Muggle-born, middle class, not terribly pretty, and could only speak a minimal amount of French. Marie couldn't exactly tell why she felt so uneasy about Hermione, as the two couldn't compare beyond their knowledge of magic, but knew that she needed to keep an eye on her all the same.

It was lunch hour, but Marie only allowed herself thirty minutes because she liked to stay on top of the day's assignment just in case they should fall behind schedule or something of the like. She marched up the hallways in her best high heels and flowing skirt, feeling more competent than usual mainly because something had slowed Hermione Granger down lately. Not human enough to care much for Granger's plight, she whistled a little under her breath in contentedness as the staff went their separate ways to take their break. She reached the mezzanine when something (or rather, someone) stopped her in her tracks.

He was casually dressed, but looked wonderful all the same, from his sneakers to his slightly unbuttoned polo shirt. His red hair fell in soft curls, looking exceedingly well-groomed as though it had just been cut, and he stuck his awkward hands in his pockets as he waited for an elevator. As she stared at him, something happened to Marie that had never happened before: her heart began to race, her head was swimming, and she thought she could feel herself beginning to perspire (something she only did when exercising and not admittedly then). Without realizing it, her feet began to move in his direction. What was this feeling? she asked herself. A smile almost spread across her face as she drew nearer to him. She never smiled except when it was called-for, socially. It was then that she followed him into the elevator, and before she knew what she was doing, she introduced herself and found out that this paragon's name was Ron Weasley.

_**BREAK**_

Hermione peeked out of her office door where she had abandoned all pursuits concerned with actual work and not daydreaming about Charlie's lips. She had decided to lie in wait there until he walked by, then she would just grab him. It was perfectly innocent of course; she just wanted to talk to him in private about what had happened that night.

A few minutes later, Hermione was rewarded as Charlie strolled down the office corridor, engrossed in a book. Hermione allowed herself one admiring sigh before lunging out into the hall, hooking him by the sleeve of his shirt, and dragging him into her office with considerable deftness.

Five minutes later, they were necking.

_**BREAK**_

Ron thought the elevator was uncommonly hot today as this Marie girl, apparent relation to Cho, attempted to make conversation with him as he started to feel that he would have very much preferred taking the stairs. The girl was rather pretty, but knowing she was related to Cho, and probably had the same genetic tear duct problem of working too well, Ron wasn't interested. Besides, his heart was too full of Hermione much to care about any other woman at the moment. He thought he would go and look in on Harry first, just to ask his advice one more time before he waited for Hermione to come out of the office, knowing she always skipped the first half of her lunch hour. Ron was musing on all of this when an odd sentence reverberated in the air of the confined elevator, forcing him to look up and ask if this pretty girl would repeat herself.

"What was that?"

"I said: did you want to go out with me some time?" Marie turned a delicate shade of rosy pink as she said it the second time.

"Well I… don't really think so. I'm pretty busy, you see," he stammered, being nothing of the kind.

"Oh, I understand," she said but looked downtrodden all the same.

It was a relief for Ron to reach Harry's floor, but when he arrived at his desk, it was empty and the "Out to Lunch" sign was glaring at him. Suddenly furious that Harry wasn't there to comfort him in his time of extreme embarrassment, but not admitting it, Ron stormed back into the elevator and rode it back down to the Department of Mysteries level. The grilles slid open, and Marie was standing there, looking a little crumpled. Ron only had to dwell on her disappointment for a few seconds because just then, two people came out of the door, holding hands, and kissing every few paces. When they came into focus, Ron recognized it was Hermione, and presumably Charlie as well. Only letting his anger and jealousy overpower him for a moment, he quickly grabbed Marie by her slender wrist and pulled her back into the elevator. Ron thought he caught a glimpse of Hermione's stunned face before the grilles slid shut again, and they were hoisted back up to the main level.

_**A/N: Hehehe… cliffhangers are amusing. Next chapter should be up soon because my muse has returned to me apparently. Thanks for reviewing to those of you who did, keep it up!**_


	5. Awkward Silences

The Locked Room

Chapter 5: Awkward Silences

Hermione had stopped midway down the hallway; Charlie's hand had dropped from her own and she clasped the now-free hand to her mouth.

"What just happened?" she asked Charlie, wondering if he had seen what she did, or if she was imagining things.

"I think a red-haired bloke just grabbed Marie and took her up into the elevator with him. Is that what you saw?"

"Yes, and I can't believe it…" she faded away into nothingness.

"Yes, it is difficult to imagine Marie having a boyfriend, but stranger things have happened. Now let's go eat lunch before we waste the entire hour." And with that Charlie grabbed her hand again and took her into the elevator, which had by now descended again.

Hermione had this feeling that it was Ron who was in that elevator, although the hair was shorter and the clothes cleaner, and Ron hadn't been out of his room in at least a week. What would Ron be doing with Marie? They had never met, as far as Hermione knew. Marie had gone to Beauxbatons, was a relative of Cho Chang's, was both tremendously smart and pretty… she couldn't possibly be interested in Ron. It had to be somebody else in that elevator. The man peering out from between the closing grilles seemed too good-looking to be Ron at any rate.

_**BREAK**_

Marie couldn't stop smiling. He had pulled her back into the elevator! She grinned at him, waiting for some sort of explanation. Ron Weasley was looking down at his feet, his jaw was set probably from embarrassment, she concluded. A few moments later, he spoke.

"So, it seems I'm not too busy right now after all. Where do you want to go for lunch?"

"Well, I usually go to this place down the street. What changed your mind?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. Marie didn't notice Ron thinking fast.

"I guess I couldn't think of anything I'd rather do than go and eat lunch with you." He made a sort of a face that might have been classified as a cringe but was determined by Marie to be a face looking for her approval.

"How nice!" was the lamest thing she could think to say, which caused her to cringe in turn. Now that a date with Ron was no longer a fantasy, she felt a little strange. Requited love wasn't something she had any experience with, and she found herself smoothing down her skirt anxiously. They walked side by side in horrifying silence for half a block before she asked him if he worked at the Ministry. An unremarkable conversation commenced as they each told each other the particular details of their lives, resulting in Marie's discovering that Ron was the brother of Fleur's husband. Marie thought that if the entire family was as attractive and agreeable as Ron, then she could understand that marriage after all. They had gotten through half their sandwiches before another awkward silence encroached upon Marie's happiness. Suddenly, Ron broke the quiet.

"You remind me of someone I know. You're both brilliant, confident, sure of yourselves. It's weird, really, how similar you both are."

"Lots of people at school would call me "_Marie tout sait_" which basically means Know-It-All Marie. They were charming," she paused, "I've never told anyone that," she finished with incredulity.

"Now you two are so alike it's scary," Ron laughed.

"Are you referring to Hermione Granger?" Ron's laugh died and the smile was wiped off of his face.

"Yes, actually. We all share a flat, me, Hermione and Harry Potter. I wasn't sure if you two knew each other. I understand the Department of Mysteries is pretty confidential."

"Well _you_ would know all about that, wouldn't you?" she asked almost coyly. Ron chose to ignore that comment.

"We should do this again some time," he said laying some money on the table and getting up to go.

"I'd love to," she answered and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. Things had turned out remarkably well, she thought as she led the way out of the restaurant. Not only had she and Ron had a good time, but she was most likely taking something away from Hermione Granger, which gave Marie a great deal of pleasure. She hated being compared to anyone.

_**BREAK**_

It was Ginny who had seen them, coming out of a restaurant down the street from the Ministry. She had been visiting her father, as an excuse to be in the same building with Harry for a few minutes. Unlike Hermione, Ginny recognized her brother immediately. He was following a pretty girl (too pretty for Ron) who looked oddly similar to Cho Chang.

Ginny shook her head in disbelief. A few days ago he was declaring violent love to Hermione, and now here he was chatting up this other girl. Ginny supposed it was possible that Ron had had enough of Hermione's coquetry (any fool could see that she loved him as much as he loved her) but it didn't seem possible for him to abandon her so quickly for someone who looked even more emotionally unstable than Hermione was.

"Heh, talk about emotionally unstable," Ginny snorted to herself thinking about a certain prat with black hair and green eyes. Whenever she thought about other people's relationships she couldn't help but consider her own failed one with Harry. Ginny always considered it her supreme misfortune in life to have fallen in love with someone she couldn't possibly resist no matter how long she tried to get over him. How wonderful it was back in her fifth year when Harry kissed her that evening! And then when he broke it off at Dumbledore's funeral she didn't get too worried because she thought that as soon as Voldemort was out of the picture, they would come back together again somehow. However, things had not worked out according to her plans, and Harry remained as distant as he had during the war.

Ginny puzzled over this night after night, trying to figure out what had stopped him from caring about her. She had always purposefully thrown herself in his way, and he was always coming to the Burrow to visit Ron and the others… but it was still stoic silence for Ginny from the wonderful Boy Who Lived. They never even talked anymore. Ginny thought if she could only find a way to initiate some sort of conversation, then they couldn't help but pick up where they had left off. She sighed as she clutched her coat tighter around herself. More couples than she and Harry had been torn apart through this war.

Fear is what changes people, she concluded, stopping in front of a clothing store's windows. Look at Draco Malfoy, he was all set to become a Death Eater but couldn't fulfill his promise to the Dark Lord. Snape had killed Dumbledore and Draco had run off scared, sheltering with the Order now and then to prevent being found. He had turned out to be a pretty good bloke after all. He and Harry still weren't too fond of each other's company, but neither one could blatantly hate the other anymore. Ginny wondered what Harry could be afraid of concerning herself but ended as she always did, not having gained any further insight on the matter (which inevitably led to impulse buying or excessive amounts of chocolate).

Coming out of this particular reverie, Ginny's thoughts drifted back to Ron and the pretty girl and wondered what could have happened to make him change his mind about Hermione so very quickly. Ginny sharply turned around and headed back in the direction of the Ministry. This had to be cleared up.

_**BREAK**_

Back in the comforting gloom of the flat, Ron sank into one of the kitchen chairs and let his head hit the table. Jealousy, it seemed had gotten the better of him again, and it was only he who ended up suffering for it. He couldn't be sure that Hermione saw him, and now he was leading Marie astray, letting her think he actually fancied her. A groan escaped him and he pounded his fist on the table.

Ron allowed himself to wallow in self-pity for quite a while. There didn't seem to be even a minute chance that Hermione would fall for him. He thought it might have been possible had not his stupid jealousy gotten the better of him in sixth year with that blasted Lavender Brown! She did ask him to go to Slughorn's party with her, and she was always quite angry that he hadn't asked her to the Yule Ball at first instead of waiting until the last minute… he groaned again. These jealousy-induced relationships never ended well for Ronald, and quite frankly, that was all the experience he had to go on.

A few hours later, Ron had fallen asleep on the table and only woke up when Harry came in.

"What are you doing there, Ron?" he asked sullenly. Harry always was a bit sullen these days. Ron thought he should just talk to Ginny and get the whole thing over with.

"It's hopeless, Harry. She'll never like me now."

"She does like you now… she just doesn't realize how much."

"No, Harry, you didn't see her coming out of the Department of Mysteries holding hands with that Charlie fellow and kissing every two paces." Ron made a face of utter disgust.

"She'll get over him eventually; girls always do."

"Yeah, but then there's Marie…"

"Marie? Who's that?"

"Marie Chang, relative of Cho's… yeah, I know. She was chatting me up and I told her I wasn't interested, but then we were all there and Hermione and HIM came out kissing, and I just grabbed her and we went to lunch," he sputtered quickly. "It was all to make Hermione jealous – but don't tell her, alright? I don't want her to know I did that."

"Well, seeing as I didn't understand half of that anyway, it doesn't much matter." Harry walked out of the kitchen and retreated to his room where he usually sat reading or just staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. Ron knew he couldn't live like that. After all, he had tried for a whole week.

_**BREAK**_

Luncheon hadn't gone as well as Hermione had anticipated when she and Charlie had left work together, happy at the fact that they could show their affection for each other again. The possibility that Ron and Marie were… well she didn't really want to know what they were doing, but it had made her very uncomfortable all the same. She tried to shake it off at first, realizing that Ron had just told her that he loved her a few days ago. He couldn't possibly have changed his mind that quickly, she thought.

By the time they had ordered lunch she had almost gotten the image out of her head. However, she thought she saw Marie's long black hair on the other side of the restaurant, and worried that she and Ron had come here as well. It turned out to be someone quite different from Marie, and Hermione ended up feeling a little foolish. She tried to laugh a little more at Charlie's jokes in order to distract herself from strangely unsettling possibilities. Once they had finished eating, Hermione began to think, why would Ron ask her out? It wasn't like Marie was a particularly nice person or anything, unless he asked her out because she was pretty. Maybe he asked her out just to make her feel bad that she had refused him before.

Lost in this dizzy haze, she didn't hear Charlie as they walked back to work; she didn't even notice he was holding her hand.

"Are you listening, or have you gone to another planet entirely?" Charlie asked with a concerned sort of sympathetic smile on his face.

"I'm sorry, just a bit preoccupied."

"That happens to you a lot, doesn't it? You hardly said a word at lunch."

"Really? I'm sorry I made it so awkward for you. A lot has happened to me in a very short time and I'm trying to sort it out the best I can. You can understand that, can't you?"

"Of course I can, I'd just like to spend some actual time with you when you aren't pursuing space travel."

"And we will spend time together, just not tonight. I need to have a long talk with someone." That someone was Harry. He was the only one who could explain a few things to her. Little did Hermione know, however, that she would be sidetracked on the way home by a certain red-head who seemed intent on getting a few things straightened out.


	6. Espionage

The Locked Room

Chapter 6: Espionage

Ginny had to restrain herself from sending people on the sidewalk flying as she directed her footsteps towards the Ministry. She knew it was close to the end of the work day and hoped that she wasn't too late to catch Hermione as she came out of the Department of Mysteries. It had been a gray day and was beginning to rain. The speckled sidewalks flashed past as Ginny finally approached the telephone box. She practically yelled into it, and was admitted.

Hermione had wandered out of the Department about five minutes before Ginny arrived and was in such a state that she couldn't quite find her way to the Atrium. When she did reach the main level, hoping to apparate back to the flat, Ginny was right there to confront her.

"Hermione! This is perfect; I need to talk to you about Ron."

"What about him?" said an almost disheveled-looking Hermione.

"I saw him today coming out of a restaurant with a pretty Asian girl. She looked like she could have been related to Cho Chang. I wondered if you knew anything about that." Ginny knew she wasn't taking the most tactful approach, but with Hermione, the best way to get information was to ask her a direct question and avoid lengthy explanations.

"It must have been Marie then. I thought I saw Ron take her into the elevator with him. I just couldn't believe it." Hermione paused for half a minute before she burst out. "How could he want to date _her_? She's positively cruel and… and mean!" Ginny merely raised her eyebrows. It seemed as though Hermione was at a loss for words. Ginny started to think that everyone she knew had gone completely mad.

"Hang on, let me get this straight: you won't date him yourself, but he can't date anyone else? That's not exactly feasible, Hermione. I know you're confused with all of this going on, but I hope it hasn't made you take leave of your senses completely."

"I haven't taken leave of my senses, I'm just confounded. I mean, how could Ron go and date MARIE of all people right after confessing he loves ME? It doesn't seem possible for Ron to do such a thing."

"Why not? He went and snogged Lavender Brown right after you had asked him to that party."

"Don't bring that up, Ginny, please. There has to be a reason for all of this."

"Why do you care so much anyway? You have Charlie, don't you?" Hermione stopped in her tracks.

"That doesn't matter right now. I just need to find out what prompted Ron to ask out Marie, and then I'll be content." Ginny could only sigh as Hermione stalked off in a huff. Ginny was usually in favor of spying on her brothers, but this time she didn't think the result would be half as amusing as it usually was.

_**BREAK**_

Harry left Ron sitting at the kitchen table, bemoaning his fate. Harry shook his head and reflected that Ron was always cursing his circumstances and it had gotten a little old. As for Harry, he kept his thoughts to himself because he knew that they would only depress if they became audible. The only thing that really made Harry get up in the morning was the possibility that he might see Ginny at some point during the day.

His routine was relatively simple. He would wake up at six in the morning because he couldn't keep himself asleep any longer. He usually only caught three or four hours of rest a night. He would make coffee and eat something, talk to Hermione a little before she went to work, and then he would be off as well after a relatively warm shower and a hefty dose of regret.

After the war had ended, and the Horcruxes had all been destroyed, Harry had presumed he would be happier. He could find Ginny and tell her that he wanted them to be together again. But that particular dream had never become corporeal. He had watched her for days on end, secretly. She had seemed happier without him. Harry's thoughts and lifestyle could only be considered glum. No one deserved that, least of all Ginny. He couldn't even bring himself to talk to her any more. That truly was denying himself because her conversation was what made life amusing, diverting, worth living. So he found excuses to be near her in visiting the Burrow as often as possible or encouraging Hermione to have Ginny over. Hermione always looked at him like he was having a queer fit when Harry suggested she invite Ginny because she knew that they hadn't talked in years. They had an interesting life of symbiosis, neither one putting off the other living their life, but still there, fueling existence. Harry could only imagine Ginny wouldn't forget what they had together, romantically. Although he could trust in Ginny's constancy, he wasn't able to bring himself to asking her out again without feeling extreme remorse. He had tried several times, but he never got out even a single word. Because Harry was carrying this eternal flame for Ginny, he never even looked at another girl. Ginny fueled all his fantasies, all his hopes. It was the depression of his demeanor that was keeping them apart. Until Harry felt he had conquered some degree of this melancholy he couldn't tell her.

When Voldemort had finally gone, it was a strange feeling. Part of Harry seemed to have fled, and he was left remarkably milder and less likely to take risks. It seemed to Harry that no aspect of his life remained unaltered after the second war had ended. Therefore, he kept to the one place that was likely to remain stable – his room. He had collected quite a sizeable book collection after the war, finding that reading was often preferable to all the inquisitive glances he suffered being out in public. He hated being hailed as a hero when he felt like a complete failure in being unable to admit his love for Ginny. Ron should have been content to at least have the courage to tell Hermione he loved her, even if she didn't know how to requite a love like Ron's just yet. Hermione didn't understand what love was. Harry knew that Ron did because he was miserable right now.

Harry also knew that Ron would continue to get himself into embarrassing scrapes with designing females until Hermione did finally requite Ron's passion. Love was something Harry thought he understood pretty fully. Since it helped him defeat Voldemort where no one else could, Harry thought he might have been the only person to understand it.

Opening his sock drawer, Harry rummaged in the back for a while until he found what he was looking for. He took out the picture Colin Creevey had taken of Harry and Ginny's first kiss. At first, Harry had been embarrassed by the photo, but after a while it became the only thing that could bring him to smile.

_**BREAK**_

To Ron's extreme mortification a few days later, he received what can only be termed an epistle of love from Marie Chang. The contents were such that he could not bear to reread them, and therefore he immediately threw the object of disgust into the fire. To sum it up, Marie was coming over later, and held very high hopes that they would go through the motions of another date. In blatant despair, which was usually how Ron went about things, he slumped into an armchair in their minuscule living room and groaned loudly. This did not produce Harry or Hermione from their rooms (which had been his design in moaning so thoroughly), so he thought he'd try again by thumping his head against the wall several times and stamping his feet on the floor. After a few minutes of this, an irate Hermione poked her head out of her door. Ron perceptibly brightened.

"Ron, if you're not dying or mortally wounded, I would appreciate it if you would stop impersonating a belligerent elephant. I'm trying to get some reading done for work." And with that, she promptly slammed the door shut again. Learning that mere annoying affectations would not be enough to educate the entire building to his grievances, Ron opted for shouting.

"Marie Chang is coming over later, just so you know!" he bellowed. The reverberating silence could have been interpreted two ways. Either they didn't care, or they cared a lot and were too mortified to say anything about it ("they" being Hermione, of course).

Finally Ron decided after several more minutes filled with pristine silence that if jealousy could work on Hermione, even if it was just job-related jealousy, then something might be accomplished. Ron knew he had gone too far to mind manipulating Hermione like that. It had to be done.

Ron Weasley knew it had to be done because he was about to burst. He would have gladly told anyone how difficult it was to live in the same flat as the woman you love and have to share a bathroom when you couldn't ravish her with… affection. For some, it might have been impossible to call Hermione pretty, but those who knew her found her soft down-to earth demeanor practically irresistible. It was only that very morning that Ron had stepped out of the shower _au natural_ and Hermione had burst into the room. Red-faced she had made a hasty retreat, but Ron found the incident hard to gloss over as though nothing had happened. He didn't mind too much, but he desperately wished that their positions could be reversed one day, or even simultaneous.

Sighing, and trying not to think about Hermione _au natural_, Ron plastered a false grin on his face and went about getting ready for Marie to arrive. If Hermione wasn't saying anything now, she certainly would later on.

_**BREAK**_

After having reread the same paragraph at least twelve times, Hermione slammed shut the book. It was a rudimentary piece of work, simply describing the sub-departments in the Department of Mysteries. She had borrowed it from the staff room in hopes of finding out something about that locked room. To her dismay, nothing was said about the shut twelfth door. She had tried opening it several times, but found that she could not. Perhaps the apparent "love" shut up in that room truly was a force to be reckoned with. It was on the twelfth reading of the aforementioned paragraph that Hermione finally admitted to herself that her thoughts were elsewhere.

Three days of snooping had gleaned no results about the intricacies of Ron's love life. At work, it was impossible _not_ to notice Marie's almost cheerful attitude when she administered assignments and supervised their progress. What was difficult for Hermione to determine was why Marie would want to date Ron so badly. The other day, the reverse question had been paramount – Hermione reasoned that the other day she had been on edge, her nerves were agitated and that was why she had gotten so angry. What else could be the reason?

Because Hermione's time had been so occupied in watching Ron's every movement, she hadn't seen Charlie as much as she could have wished. Another downfall was that she had managed to see much more of Ron than she was comfortable seeing. She had been flustered this morning, unable to concentrate on anything except what could possibly be locked up in that room and why it was so important that she had completely forgotten to knock on the bathroom door before charging right in. And she paid for this lack of caution as there was Ronald as nature intended, quite stunned. Her first impulse was to stand and stare at him. Lean, tall and muscular were three adjectives that could have described the sight, had she the words at the moment. Once she had slightly regained her senses, she realized she should have left the room a little sooner instead of gaping like a child in a candy shop.

Although she hated to admit it, it took Hermione the greater part of the morning pacing her room to calm herself after this incident. Realizing later on that she had let her guard down in front of Ron, who she was supposed to be spying on, her confusion settled into anger and she was quite happy to yell at him under the pretence of being disturbed. Indeed she was disturbed, but not in the sense that Harry and Ron would have surmised. She was shaking as she replayed the morning in her mind, but she shook even more as Ron yelled out that Marie was coming over later. With a throaty sigh, Hermione opened the book again and attempted to force her thoughts onto less fleshy subject matter. With the enemy approaching, it was best to have her wits about her, she decided.

_**BREAK**_

Ron was sitting tapping his fingers on his knees as the hour approached for Marie to arrive. Harry had tactfully left the flat Ron noticed from the popping noise he heard coming from his room. However, Ron was fairly certain that Hermione had stood her ground. It was difficult not to be too encouraged by this fact, but Ron couldn't contain a genuine smile of anticipation that his plans seemed to be working out according to his desires.

At eight o'clock precisely, a concise rap was heard at the door. Ron opened it up to reveal a demurely smiling Marie looking softer somehow with her hair in loose curls and a fuzzy white sweater. Ron almost began to appreciate what Harry saw in Cho. Inviting her in, she smiled more broadly and took an inventory of the flat, so it seemed. Ron figured she was storing up information to quiz Hermione about later. He smiled at the prospect of Marie having dirt on Hermione.

"Thanks for having me over," she said amicably seating herself on the couch.

"No problem," he grunted out. "What do you want to do?"

"I thought we could just get to know each other a little. I can conjure up something for dinner here, if you'd like." Ron nodded at her, adding in a little benign smirk. He glanced furtively at Hermione's door, but not a sound could he hear, not even a cough.

As the evening wore on, Marie and Ron certainly did get to know each other over an edible, if not remarkable dinner conjured deftly with a flick of Marie's wand. They had opened a bottle of cheap Warlock Wine and sat talking about unimportant things until midnight, at least. That was when things got a little awkward for Ron as Marie had nestled closer to him on the couch. Her head was on his shoulder, and she was a little the worse for the wine it seemed. Ron almost wanted to laugh at the idea of this Marie, infamous as a work horse (almost as bad as Hermione) loosening up this easily. With a pang of combined terror and sickness, Ron realized that Marie must like him quite a bit. As he was staring off, horrified more and more with each passing moment, Marie was moving in for the kill, or rather, the kiss. Before Ron knew what was going on, she was straddling him, her tongue desperately attempting to make inroads on his firmly clenched mouth. The gyrating of Marie on top of him caused another embarrassment from his nether-regions, happy to be getting any attention at all. Ron attempted to push Marie off of him when Hermione's door banged open and she fell out of her room onto her face. It appeared, from what Ron could see in his position that she had been peering through the keyhole. He had never taken Hermione for a voyeur. Marie groggily separated herself from Ron's face and leered over at Hermione, who was looking sheepish, embarrassed and slightly miffed, it seemed.

"I'm sorry," Hermione snapped, "I'll just leave you to your… liaison." With an angry snort she disapparated, leaving Marie to renew her assault on Ron's person, to his eternal frustration. How could it be that when he finally got action from a girl, he wasn't able to enjoy it? It was all Hermione's fault. If he couldn't have her, he wouldn't put up with anything less, no matter how difficult his libido found it.


	7. Animal Instincts

The Locked Room

Chapter 7: Animal Instincts

Had the heavens gathered over her head and lightning struck Ronald Weasley square in the chest, Hermione wouldn't have been surprised. It was all she could do to refrain from shouting, stamping her feet and generally boiling over. The only thing she could think to do after witnessing such a betrayal was to go to Mrs. Weasley. Hermione was certain she could find sympathy about Ron's downfalls from someone at the Burrow, and she was right.

"He was kissing her right there in OUR flat, RIGHT after he had said he loved ME!" she boomed, pacing the Burrow kitchen as Fred, George, Ginny, Arthur, and Molly listened in.

"He's a right prat," Ginny declared.

"Maybe she came on to him," Mr. Weasley said.

"I'm going to slip him a Nosebleed Nougat when he isn't watching," Fred murmured.

"I second that motion," George concurred.

"I thought you didn't like Ron," was Mrs. Weasley's misplaced remark. Hermione, stopped dead in her tracks simply gaped at her. The others, after a slight shock, recovered quickly enough to agree with Mrs. Weasley before Hermione could regain her senses. They simply all looked sheepish and knowingly from one to the other as Hermione managed to find a chair and sat down heavily in it.

"That's beside the point," she said finally and with a great deal of agony thrown in. She must have known her rebuttal was futile. Nothing could be done but to throw her head on top of her crossed arms sitting on the table top and groan. "There has to be something I can do," she murmured and nobody heard her. Deciding that something would be done, she got up, held her hand to her head, choked back a few tears and disapparated.

The Weasley's were left in a state of extreme anticlimax. They all stared at Mrs. Weasley before she spoke a few moments later.

"Well, no one would get that upset about someone they didn't care about," she said simply.

"I think they're both a couple of prats," Fred said. The others laughed.

"Ever since Ron wrote home about that bossy girl that no one liked, I knew he was in for some trouble," Mr. Weasley chuckled. "I can remember your mother being rather bossy back in the day," he said as the corners of his mouth twitched from resisting a smile.

"Yes, but I won you over eventually," Molly said, laughing herself.

"Let's keep all the mushiness down to mildly nauseating, shall we?" said George.

"Where do you suppose Hermione went?"

"Probably to their flat, I'd assume," said Ginny with her head downcast thinking it had been a long time since she'd been to their flat. A pang shot through Ginny as she thought about Hermione suffering over her own _problèmes d'amour_. However, Ginny found she couldn't dwell on that for long, as her own heartaches overcame any others.

_**BREAK**_

"Listen, you've got to go now."

"But Ronnie, I don't want to go… Don't you want to finish what we started?" Marie let out an uncharacteristic giggle, leaning in towards Ron provocatively. Ron thought he must have been crazy to be shoving this girl out of the flat like he was, but there were rules about that sort of thing, and Marie wasn't the one he wanted to compromise at the moment.

Finally, he got her out into the hall and slammed the door shut. He leaned against it in overwhelming relief, tempered with concern that Hermione really was mad at him about all of this. Ron wished he knew where Harry had gotten to. He could do with some talk _mano a mano_, and Harry was always good at this sort of thing. Even though Harry had only dated Cho and his sister, the fellow knew quite a bit about love and the like. Ron didn't know the intricacies of the emotion, but he knew when he was in it, and boy was he deep in it.

Ron flopped down onto the couch where he had recently been conducting his illicit liaison with Marie (according to Hermione) and marveled in wonder at the manner in which he had controlled his animal instincts. Had he not known he was in love with Hermione, he wouldn't have been able to explain the situation at all. He was a virile young man and would take what he could get, which wasn't much. But ever since that night a few months back, Hermione was all he could think about. In the years before that fatal night, Ron had thought about Hermione in that half-curious, half-skeptical way, always cautious when it came to his dealings with her, but always grateful for her friendship. He hadn't really considered dating her until after the entire Lavender Brown fiasco.

The hospital ward, after he had been poisoned was where something changed between them. Ron realized how important she was, at least in the back of his mind. He dreamt about her constantly in that ward. He didn't want to succumb to anything while they were at odds, so he did everything in his power to make up for his ill-chosen alliance with Lavender. Being near to Hermione became second nature to him after that poisoning incident, and he didn't want to jeopardize it again, which was why he felt like a first-rate prat for having allowed Marie to do that to him this evening. There was no denying that his fondness for being around Hermione had blossomed into love at a definitive moment only a few months back.

The fatal night hadn't seemed particularly fatal at the time, but Ron knew that when Hermione had come in that rainy night a few months back, dripping slightly, but smiling, he wanted to dry her off and get her warmer. Her beauty he was fully cognizant of before all of this, but seeing her freshly wet and rosy-cheeked set off something in his mind that added affection to admiration and manifested into a concern for her well-being that he had been feeling in lesser degrees all throughout their school years. Now the concern was paramount, not that he had reason to worry, but he just didn't want to let her out of his sight.

When she admitted that she was going on a date with that Charlie fellow, Ron was able to fully comprehend his feelings for her in every variation, every manner in which he cared for her, in which he was jealous of anyone who could tell her how wonderful she was before he did. That was what had prompted his confession of love for her. He didn't regret it for one moment.

Sighing at the horrible predicament he had landed himself in, yet again, Ron decided the best thing to do was go for a walk. Maybe he would run into Harry and be able to talk this out. Ron didn't know where to start walking, so he turned unconsciously in the direction of the Ministry, thinking he'd just walk until something made sense. All he could do at the moment was curse whatever vicious circumstance had brought Marie into the Atrium at that precise moment on that precise day. Things couldn't have turned out worse.

_**BREAK**_

In keeping with fate's decision to keep Ron from having anything good happen to him that evening, a few minutes after he went out in search of Harry, Harry himself popped back into his room. Peering out through the keyhole to make sure the coast was clear, he came out of his seclusion and picked up the _Daily Prophet_, made himself a cup of tea and settled down on the recently-vacated couch. It wasn't too long after this that he heard another pop and assumed it was Hermione coming back from wherever she had fled to in the wake of Marie's arrival. To Harry's confusion, a horrible noise came from Hermione's room that sounded like a heard of buffalo had stampeded through and knocked everything over that wasn't nailed down. A little concerned to say the least, Harry opened Hermione's door to find her leaning over a book depicting a building's structure, it seemed.

"Hermione, are you alright?"

"Fine, Harry."

"I heard a lot of books fall and thought you might have been hurt."

"Mhm," was all she said.

"Hermione, just tell me what's going on."

"Why don't you ask Ronald? Or is he still lip locked with that slut in the living room?"

"What are you talking about? You don't mean to tell me you stayed here during that whole ordeal?"

"Yes, I did. I wanted to get some research done and after all this is my flat as much as Ron's, isn't it?"

"Well yeah, but I didn't think you would stay…"

"Well I did, and I saw the whole thing. She was all over him. I can't believe the prat would do such a thing under the very same roof that he told me that he-"

"That he loves you?"

"Shouldn't you be putting that in the past tense?" she asked with a furious snap.

"Hermione, you don't understand."

"Oh, I understand alright."

"But you have Charlie, why shouldn't he date someone else if you're not interested? You made quite an ordeal about telling him you weren't interested, so he's trying to get over it the best he can, if he ever does get over you, which I doubt."

"Since when do you know so much about love, Harry? You haven't talked to Ginny in two years!"

"Don't bring me into this, Hermione."

"Yeah, well don't presume to know things that you can't have any idea about. I know Ron, and I know that he doesn't care. For Merlin's sake, he always does this to me!" And with that, Hermione broke down crying. She was so upset she toppled onto a heap on the floor. In between racking sobs, she continued. "Harry, I have tried to understand him, honestly, but every time I think we're getting close he goes and does something that just breaks my heart. So I try this dating thing with someone else – someone who is completely wonderful. He adores me. But Charlie doesn't understand what Ron and I – Ron is always in my head. Do you remember that time in the first year when he made fun of me and I locked myself in the bathroom? That was the first time he broke my heart, and good grief, there were so many times after that… I'm sick of it, Harry! So don't pretend to know what I'm going through or to presume you know what Ron is thinking. He's heartless, just like you. You won't even give Ginny the time of day! If I could I would hit you so hard right now for hurting her just like Ron hurt me."

"Hermione, you don't understand. He cares about you, you just have to-"

"Save it, Harry. I'm getting out of here." And she did.

Harry was left standing in Hermione's room, a few seconds from boiling over. He didn't want to think about what she had said about Ginny and himself, so he didn't. He crossed over to her desk to look at what book she had so frantically opened.

**SUBDEPARTMENTS WITHIN THE DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES**

**A Rudimentary Guide to Level Nine, Ministry of Magic**

Door Number Twelve: Top Secret

_This room is kept locked at all times, for it contains highly dangerous magic and should not be tampered with by inexperienced witches or wizards unaware of its full power._

Harry gasped when he realized what door she was trying to get into. It was the infamous locked room filled with what Dumbledore had said was the most powerful magic known to wizards and muggles alike – love. He frantically tried to recall all that Dumbledore had said that night when he had revealed the prophecy, but he couldn't think of it. It was something about how it had driven Voldemort out of his body that night or something about his mother's sacrifice for him. That wasn't much to go on, but Harry recalled how the door would not open to him, even with Sirius's penknife. What could Hermione want with that room? He knew Hermione, and when she couldn't figure something out, it would drive her completely insane. Harry sighed. He knew he needed to get to the Ministry in case Hermione tried something silly. They had been through too much together for him not to go and help her, and he knew Hermione too well to get angry at what she had said. After all, it was the truth and there was no reason to get upset about what he couldn't deny or alter.

_**BREAK**_

Hermione didn't immediately flee to the Ministry. Her first stop was Charlie's flat. They didn't say anything at all when she arrived. He wanted to comment about her red eyes and damp cheeks, but he couldn't get a word out. She had practically thrown herself at him. This impulse of Hermione's made Charlie extremely excited, and he didn't think he could contain himself if she kept this up. His hands ran through her hair and under her shirt. Hardly knowing what she did, Hermione acquiesced to every movement, every touch. It was only when he nestled his head into the crook of her neck and whispered her name between gentle kisses that she said something completely unexpected.

She said "Ron" and gasped. There was passion in her voice when she said the name, and it wasn't because of Charlie's ministrations. It was because she had been thinking about Ron. She had been thinking about that night a few months back when she came in from the rain and he took a towel and wrapped her in it, simultaneously hugging her, placing his chin in the crook of her neck. "Damnit," was the next thing that came out of her mouth.

"What's wrong?" said Charlie, apparently not noticing that she had said some other man's name. He was only put off that she had stopped the fun.

"Charlie, I need to figure out what's in that locked room."

"What, now?" he groaned.

"Yes, or I'll never be at peace," she told him while putting her shoes back on and grabbing her sweater. "I have to go to the Ministry," she said consolingly. "But thanks for everything, it's been fun."

She didn't bother to apparate. She walked. That evening there were four feet directed towards one destination, unbeknownst to either of them.

_**A/N: Hey there… I thought I'd put up one more chapter before I go on my vacation as a little present. I don't think I can bring myself to finish it before I leave. I'll try and work on it on the plane and update as soon as I can. Thanks for reviewing! Keep it up!**_


	8. Heavy Hearts

The Locked Room

Chapter 8: Heavy Hearts

The dimmed streetlamps did nothing to penetrate the gloom felt by all on this misty, preoccupied evening. Charlie Perkins was one of several people licking their emotional wounds that night, and after looking blankly around his flat for a few minutes, he could only think of one thing to do. He directed his steps towards the Leaky Cauldron. He knew Hermione wouldn't be back, she gave him a look that said as much. As he took a seat on one of the creaking barstools, he tried not to think about her, but this was the very pub where they had had their first date. He ordered a Firewhiskey and wondered what had happened that evening to make her run out on him as she did. His glass was sweating, and as he ran his fingers along the condensation he realized what she had whispered into his ear earlier. It was the name "Ron" and he hadn't even noticed it. Could he have really been in love with her, or was he just infatuated with the idea of her?

There was something about Hermione that he could never quite understand. She was never completely there with him, not even when they were alone. She was always far off, thinking of something else. Charlie had wanted to pin down her gaze, he wanted to turn her thoughts to him and lock them there. Her mind spun like a top most of the time, and he was always in awe of the mystery surrounding her logical processes. He would glance at her sometimes, and he knew she was lost in thought. He had the most terrible impulses to ask her what she was thinking. He never really found out, however, and now she was gone.

He took a large swig of his Firewhiskey and choked on it. Anything, he thought, to drown out that emptiness. The people in the pub came and went and Charlie began to ruminate about this Ron Weasley, and why Hermione was so crazy about him. The Weasleys had always been famous at Hogwarts for one thing or another. Charlie distinctly remembered the hoaxes and pranks of the twins, and only vaguely recalled Percy, the older brother who became the most obnoxiously pompous Head Boy he had ever had the misfortune to meet. And now Hermione, the one woman he had ever really respected, was subject to this unknown Weasley brother. Taking another swig of his drink, the room began to sway. He vaguely noticed someone had seated themselves next to him. He saw a veil of black hair, and splotches of a tear-stained face.

"Marie?" he asked slightly groggily. The woman next to him turned to face him. It was indeed Marie Chang, looking very distraught.

"Hullo, Charlie," she said very quietly, completely unlike her usual brisk greetings at work.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked quite bluntly. It must have been something awfully important to cause Marie to lose her sense of decorum.

"Oh, it's nothing really… I just had a date that didn't go so well."

"What happened?" he asked with a tone more gentle as he leaned conspiratorially in towards her. He watched her debate with herself whether to tell him or not, but something won out in favor of disclosure and she began whispering the tale to him.

"I was at Ron Weasley's flat," she began ashamedly almost, "and I didn't know Hermione Granger lived with him. We ate dinner, Ron and me, and then I… well, I suppose I had too much wine, and then Hermione came in and saw us. I didn't mind, really, but Ron did and he forced me out of the flat. I think Hermione got quite mad at him, actually," she admitted. "I don't know why she was in such a strop when she has _you_, Charlie. Maybe she just doesn't like me associating with her friends…." Marie sunk her lovely head into her folded arms and Charlie felt what seemed like a pang of pity for her, and something else. He wanted to comfort her. They were both pawns in this game of Hermione's and that Weasley fellow.

"Well, Hermione doesn't have me anymore," Charlie admitted, going along with the confessional mood of the evening. "She walked out on me tonight after she said Ron's name instead of mine." Marie looked at him with awe. She looked like she felt a little better yet simultaneously ten times worse.

"I'm sorry things didn't work out, you two always looked like you really admired each other."

"I'm sorry things didn't work out with you and Weasley, either. And yet I'm not sorry… who needs them to be happy? They're obviously crazy about each other, and we were just taken along for the ride." Marie's face brightened up at this. Charlie looked at her, still dripping with tears yet smiling warmly at him. "Let me buy you a drink," he said nodding at the bartender.

_**BREAK**_

A few minutes after Hermione had left the Burrow, conversation broke out in an uproar. They all started speculating about what would happen between Ron and Hermione, and they each shared their separate pieces of gossip with relish. Mr. Weasley said that Perkins at the office had mentioned that Charlie, his nephew once-removed, had been mooning about quite a lot lately and seemed not to be listening when Perkins talked to him about the biting doorknob epidemic in Chiswick, but then he never really did pay attention.

Ginny was not soothed by the unruly atmosphere and ran her hands through her hair in distress. She needed to get out. Running up to her room, Ginny grabbed her coat and popped into town. The streets were damply glistening from rain or the threat of it, and the solitude of the nearly-empty streets near the Ministry did much to calm her down. Whenever she had had enough of people in general, a few moments solitude could rejuvenate her. She thought she might need more than a few moments tonight to revive her spirits, but she didn't have much time to organize it, for there, walking on the other side of the street a few meters ahead of her was Harry. He was moving fast, almost purposeful. Ginny was overcome with curiosity. A moment was enough to undo the past year or so.

"Harry!" she shouted, heedless of the night crowding in around them. He stopped abruptly, as though he was a sleepwalker, waking from a dream. It only took a few seconds for Ginny to catch up to him. "Where are you going? It's late," she finished needlessly, inwardly kicking herself for suddenly acting like his keeper.

"I was just going to the Ministry," he said slowly, looking at her as though she had grown a second head.

"Work?"

"No, actually… Hermione said she was going there. She was really upset about something or other…" He kept trailing off.

"What happened?" Ginny encouraged him, although she herself couldn't concentrate very well.

"Ron had that date thing…"

"Yeah, Hermione came and told us about that, but why would she go to the Ministry?"

"Oh, she was just trying to get into that locked room."

"In the Department of Mysteries?"

"Yeah, the one we couldn't get into before."

"I remember. But can't she get into it since she works there?"

"Apparently not. Listen, did you want to come down there with me, just to make sure everything's alright?" He looked at her anxiously.

"If you'd like me to, of course I'll come with you." They fell into step immediately, walking quickly at first but eventually slowing down quite noticeably. The silence was unsettling to both of them, especially when compared with their former intimacy. Ginny found herself wringing her hands distractedly. She glanced over at Harry who had stuck his hands in his pockets and was staring straight at his feet, as if they would fly off if he didn't keep an eye on them.

"Listen, Ginny, I um… I'm really sorry we haven't spoken in a while." Ginny didn't say a thing but waited for him to go on. "I just haven't been myself since the war ended, and I – I _regret_ that we've lost touch. Merlin, I'm such a prat," he whispered under his breath.

"It's alright, Harry. I think I understand… a little. I just didn't know what to do when you didn't want to talk, so I kept my distance. Otherwise I would have said something." Suddenly, Ginny grabbed his shoulder and spun him around so he was facing her and she had a hold of his arms. "Harry, I still care about you, and I know that's probably the last thing you want to hear right now, but there it is. I can't get over it unless you tell me it's not what you want. And even then I probably won't be able to get over it." Harry was looking at her at first, his green eyes faintly glowing in the lamplight and his hair a mess. The darkness had partially concealed his face, but she watched him glance down at the pavement sorrowfully.

"Ginny, I… I'm afraid of hurting you again. I can't bear to see you sad, it's not like you, and I'm afraid I'll just make you more miserable. I'm not much of an optimist these days." He shrugged off her grip and turned to keep walking down the street. She stood there, baffled for a while before taking off after him. Her footsteps slapped on the wet pavement.

"What makes you think I'd be miserable if we were…" she died off awkwardly. "And what do have to be pessimistic about? The war is over, you defeated him! I know you lost a lot of good friends in the process but at least you'll never have to go through that again, Harry. And there are still a lot of people left who care about you, me included, no matter how scarred you came out in the end." Ginny looked at him with panic in her eyes. It felt like their whole future depended on this one conversation.

"Ginny, it wouldn't be the same. I'm different and so are you. Everyone has changed."

"I may be different but that doesn't mean my feelings for you are different!" she shouted passionately. He had gained a few yards on her, and she was feeling extremely frustrated. He stopped when he heard the tone of her voice. She knew she was on the verge of tears and did nothing to check them.

"I'm so sick of dreaming about you, Harry! I'm tired of worrying about you, knowing that you're thinking I don't care for you anymore. That's not how it is! I can be just as stubborn as you, Harry James Potter, if not more so! So you're just going to have to live with me, because I'm not going anywhere," she gasped out between choking sobs.

It took a few seconds, but eventually Harry walked over to her and slightly awkwardly enfolded her in his arms. He smelled the same and yet a trifle different, as though the past year had tweaked him slightly. His bare arms were cold, but the rest of him was warm and inviting. Ginny gradually stopped crying and nestled her head under his chin, as he was at least a whole head taller than her.

"I'm sorry for the last year, Ginny, but I loved you too much to talk to you," he whispered. She choked out something that was halfway between a scoff and a laugh.

"You always were ridiculously and overly noble. Please don't be noble and self-sacrificing anymore, it's not working out."

"Fine, I'll be jealous and demanding and never leave you alone for one minute, how does that sound?" he smirked a little, his green eyes glinting mischievously.

"Ideal," she replied.

_**BREAK**_

Breathless and still upset, Hermione arrived at the telephone box outside the Ministry and collapsed against the wall of the booth as she picked up the greasy receiver and dialed 62442. She said her name and waited as she gradually sank down into the bowels of London's secret underground.

It was a bitter mission she was on, she reflected as she arrived in the atrium. Looking around her, she was reminded of that night three years ago when she and the others had rushed down here to "save" Sirius, only to be ambushed by Death Eaters. She had not to think about that night every day she was at work because it sent shivers up and down her back. Hermione never liked to admit she was frightened about something, especially if she could fully comprehend it. But there was something eerie about the Atrium that evening with the lamps dimmed and the fountain gurgling unobtrusively. It was too quiet, and she thought about fifth year and how they had all been so tense and expectant that night. It was rather how she felt right now.

She didn't really know what she expected to find inside that locked room. Obviously she had no idea what could be in there, since nothing she had found could tell her a thing about it. What was it about that locked room that had her so bewitched? She wondered about that as she stealthily made her way over to the lifts. The grilles slid shut smoothly and the voice above her began listing off the floors as she made her descent.

Once she arrived on level nine, the doors slid open and there was the hallway Harry had so fastidiously dreamt of. Taking a deep breath as though she hadn't walked down this hallway hundreds of times to and from work everyday, she marched steadily down the hall. She grasped the doorknob as if it were something foreign to her. She tried to steady herself by telling herself that she shouldn't be afraid, and what with everything going on with Ron she had bigger things to be upset about, but she couldn't believe it. Everything hinged on this night, she knew without a doubt. Stepping into the little circular rooms, she felt she knew which door it was without having to think about it. Her hand was drawn to one of the doors on her left. She could practically feel her hand being pulled towards it.

When she made contact with the cold doorknob she had only to twist it gently and the door yielded to her, like it had only been waiting for her to try it all this while. All of her nervous shaking had by now melted away as she was gently drawn into the room by invisible hands.

Immediately, all she could see was darkness. Then she heard scuffling in a corner and a dim light glowing there. She closed her eyes tighter to see what it was. When she recognized it, she drew in her breath with a sharp gasp and fainted away on the cold marble floor.


	9. Inside

The Locked Room

Chapter Nine: Inside

It was a smooth inky blackness that reached into every corner of Hermione's heart and would have practically swallowed her were it not for that faint dim shaft of light glowing in the corner. It almost resembled wand light…

"Hermione, can you hear me?" Someone's voice was floating through the almost-blackness. The tones of it were enough to comfort her, they sounded so familiar. Soon she could feel the arm cradling her neck. Then she opened her eyes slightly and found that she was not alone in the room. In fact the whole room was filled with people. The first face her blurred eyes focused on was quite close to her own. She could see the red outline of hair and the endearing freckles sprinkled all over that well-known stubborn face.

"Ron," she whispered, like a gentle breeze, sighing out relief.

"I'm here, Hermione. Harry's here too, and Ginny. And I think the angry-looking bloke might be your boss." Hermione shook her head. She was dizzy with relief that it was Ron who was holding her. She was so glad to be in his arms she refused to sit up.

"Where are we?" she asked quietly, so that only Ron heard. He bent his head down closer to hers and she felt his nose brush gently on her cheek as he whispered something back to her. Her eyes rolled back in her head when she felt that secret touch.

It was Ron, and he was in the locked room.

"The room that used to be locked, apparently," he told her without needing to.

"I'm glad it was you in here, Ron. I never realized love could be that simple, I suppose. It's just you."

"Does that mean you like me too?" he asked still holding on to her.

"It means I like you a lot."

_**BREAK**_

There were a number of chairs in that locked room, to everyone's surprise. It seems that the Locked Room was rather like the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts.

"So you're telling me that Ron and Hermione found the door unlocked tonight because they were just looking for each other?" Harry asked the Head of the Department.

"Ron found his way in here because Hermione was looking for him, yes. When she got here, he was there – that was what she had locked within herself, her love for him. And when she was ready to come to terms with it, she found him, ready and waiting to help her. To be honest, we haven't used this room in quite a long time."

"Why is it kept locked then?" Ginny asked.

"Because, everyone has to face it when they are good and ready. If people found out how powerful love is when they didn't deserve to know, or when they weren't ready there could be all sorts of horrible consequences. Just think if you found out the person you were destined to love too early, and you hated them… you would avoid it for the rest of your life. It's too powerful to be imagined. Just look at that." He motioned to the corner of the room where Ron and Hermione were holding hands and staring at each other as though they couldn't get enough. Harry and Ginny chuckled. They too were not a little love-struck.

"I can't figure out what brought Ron here in the first place," Ginny said, watching Ron and Hermione start necking again.

"We'll have to ask him later. I think he'll be a little busy tonight." Harry winked at Ginny. She beamed back at him. She thought that Harry might be busy tonight, too.

"When was the last time the room was used? And why is it here in the Department of Mysteries?" Harry asked.

"Because it's always a mystery. Did you even have to ask, Mr. Potter?" the bearded man smiled at him. "Now I think it's time you all went home. Ms. Granger, I trust you will be here for work Monday morning? We still need to fix those remaining Time-Turners, you know."

Hermione looked up and blushed, either from the implied meaning in that statement, or the fact that she couldn't stop blushing tonight.

"I'll be there, bright and early, Sir."

And so the four of them exited the Ministry and made their way slowly back to the flat.

"Ron, what impelled you to go to the Ministry tonight? I'm dying of curiosity," Ginny said.

"I dunno, I just started walking and ended up in that little blue room. Then I reached out my hand randomly, and it opened. I walked in there, except it was completely dark. Then I bumped into a few chairs before thinking I should light my wand. That was when the door opened again and I heard someone fall on the floor. I rushed over, and it was Hermione." Hermione smiled up at him, she hadn't heard the story yet, either. "I was so relieved she was there with me, I didn't think of anything else except how to wake her up until you lot came bursting in."

"Did you all really burst in?" Hermione asked in wonderment.

"Well after you were in such a strop with me, I wanted to know where you were going," Harry told her, "So I looked in your book and realized you trying to get in the locked room. Then I met Ginny on the way, and we were both worried. By the time we got down there, your boss was already there, giving Ron a scolding, actually."

"Was he? I didn't hear much," Ron said, holding Hermione's hand and gazing at her foggily.

"Yeah, he couldn't figure out how you got in there. I thought it was pretty funny."

"Mhm," Ron murmured. Hermione was still smiling at him.

_**BREAK**_

Ron and Hermione were sitting on the couch surrounded by a quiet that was as unlike them as anything could be. It was nice to just revel in the fact that they understood without needing to bicker for once. Harry and Ginny were not at the flat; they had disappeared to an unknown location about a half hour ago. Eventually, Ron snaked an arm around Hermione, finally being able to freely embrace her, and know it would not be repulsed. The gesture, surely, would not have been repulsed at any time during their friendship, but neither was aware of it.

It was the end of something, and the beginning of something better. Lives are full of such beginnings and ends, some more remarkable than others. It is impossible to tell exactly when one will happen across such junctures and what they will consist of. The one thing that is always absolutely certain is that there will be things to gain, and things lost at such paradigm shifts. Ron and Hermione were unaware of the loss they had suffered, because it was outstripped irrevocably by their gains. In discovering a deep sort of affection that stemmed from persistent and long-lasting friendship, to feel regard for another person, knowing their faults and their strengths and accepting it all together – that was a situation that silence could sit comfortably in.

_**BREAK**_

The August day had coalesced into a spectacle of gold and green as the sun set on the gently swinging leaves holding steadfast to their branches in a gentle breeze that swept across the grounds surrounding the Burrow. If one were sitting in the Weasley's kitchen, it would be possible to hear shouts of joy coming from up on their makeshift Quidditch pitch, a mile or so away. Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Angelina, Ron, Harry, and Ginny were all there, playing four-on-four, while Fleur and Hermione looked on from below.

"So, when ees ze wedding?" Fleur asked Hermione, who for once was actually inclined to be pleasant to the French invader.

"Well, we haven't really decided yet. Ginny wanted it to be a double wedding, but the boys didn't seem too enthused about that." Hermione held a hand up to her eyes to look up and see how the game was progressing. Harry and Ginny were sitting on their brooms significantly higher than the others, and Angelina was trying to wrestle Fred's Beater's club out of his hands for some unknown reason. The echoes of their laughter floated above the two women, getting damp on the lawn below.

"Eet ees perhaps understandable," Fleur sighed. "Eet would 'ave been extremement belle, n'est-ce pas?" Hermione chose to ignore her lapse into French and pretend she knew what she said. She could almost understand it through empathy, however.

"Yes," she sighed out into the closing of day.

"I always knew you two would like each uzzer," Fleur purred. "I talked to Viktor Krum un peu, when ze tournament was 'appening. 'e was very fond of you," she said with a sideways glance, "but I could tell." Hermione reddened.

"Yes, I'm afraid Ron has always been a bit of a soft spot with me, especially that year. I haven't talked to Viktor in ages."

"Oui, l'amour est tout ce que vous avez besoin," Fleur murmured to herself. The phrase sounded so lovely, Hermione had to ask what it meant.

"Eet means, love is all you need," she said, gazing up at Bill in the reddening glow from the sun. The Weasley's hair in the light truly looked on fire. But it was Ron's smile, as he waved down to her that Hermione took the most delight in observing.

"Well that's true," Hermione agreed. "And to think it was locked up in that room all the time," she whispered to herself. Fleur smiled at her, and placed her hand on top of Hermione's.

"You Eenglish never were very good at ze love-making," Fleur laughed throatily. "You really cannot believe zat a room brought you and Ron togezzer? Eet would 'ave 'appened wezzer you went zere or not. You were meant to be zis way. Come, let us go make dinner, while zey play zat barbaric game," she said and stood up, holding out her hand to Hermione, who took it, and glanced up once more at Ron.

As he waved back at her, Hermione laughed to herself. Fleur was right – Ron wasn't locked in that room all that time. He was locked in her heart and her mind, and she just wouldn't let herself come to terms with the fact that she fell for someone so completely unlike herself and her ideals. But he had outstripped any imaginary perfections Hermione might have been cherishing in her inner heart. He was everything she wanted because he was everything she was not. How cliché, and how damnably true. She laughed again and skipped off down the hill to the Burrow with the sunlight warming her on the inside along with Ron's laughter and smiles ringing across the countryside.


End file.
